I was angry, hurt, in pain.
But she didn't even react. She didn't care. About me, about what she'd done.
And another nice touch, the fake bouts of illness to make the story go down smoother.
What a fool I'd been.
But what if they're real? What if she really needs help?
I clenched my fist and felt the note from the flowers crumple. Good. I hated that thing now.
And why did I always want to believe her?! Always, I wanted I find some way to justify her actions. I wanted to believe in her. And that disgusted me.
I saw the doctor on the first floor, the one who was her brother. He was in my way anyway. Might as well. "Your lying sister is faking another attack," I said, scowling at him.
He didn't even pause to ask me anything, just turned and ran toward the stairwell, not like the other day when he'd simply been walking quickly. He was full out sprinting.
Then I remembered (y/n)'s words.
Not everything was a lie.
Were they real then? Or just another deception?
I shook my head. She'd fooled me once. She wouldn't fool me twice.
And so I left.